Sigh. 
I am starting out this post with an apology.
If this is your first time here I would recommend running as fast as you can for the hills.
Or starting with the normal crap I write.
Like this for instance is something that y’all seem to dig.
Or this one about a bull penis and my mom.
With that said.
This post contains the following but not limited to:
Really offensive words, especially to women.
Death.
Anger.
Implied violence.
It does not contain the following:
Funny pictures
Funny Videos
Vapid ramblings.

This was an odd week in my neck of the woods. We had not one, not two but three suicides. We also had not one,  not two, but three  major car accicdents on Wednesday resulting in no less than two fatalities. 
These are the kind of things that  make me get all serious like. 
The kind of things that make me eat my remaining xanax with a fervor.
The kind of things that make me get weak in knees.
Weak in the heart.
Weak all over.

These things wake me in the middle of the  night with a one truly honest selfish thought.
“I am so lucky it was  no one I love.”

Dare I say these are the kind of things that haunt me.
At least for a little while.
Until time passes.
And the weakness gets stronger.
Or…
A new desperate thought invades my brain.
It is a struggle you know to be this vapid.
To be this optimistic.
To make light of this life.

Then there are moments that bring me out.
That bring me up.
That make me want to stop. Turn around and punch the ever loving shit out of certain people.
 
There was the young girl needing desperately to make a left turn to ”no- fucking-where” the other morning motioning me to
 ”move along because you are holding up my day asshole“

She had no idea the rage she ignited in me. The way she made my eye twitch. The way I wanted to stop my car in the middle of the road.
Blocking her pointless left turn.
The way  I wanted to get out of my car.
Walk up to her car. 
Pound on her window with my fist.
Grab her by the throat and gently whisper in her ear.
“Why?”
“Do you know how many people are feeling devastated today?”
“Do you care?”
“Do you know how angry you have made me?”
“Go make your pointless left turn and go fuck your self?”

Instead I glared at her real hard.
Went to work and planned how her day would end up in despair and disappointment when her boyfriend didn’t show up for coffee and poetry while they smoked a clove cigarette in the sliver of sunshine she stole from me.

Cunt.

Or it could be a very simple absurd utterance from an equally absurdly simple human.

 ”I don’t know about this coat. Is it too much? I don’t want to be a loud person.”

With that I silently threw my head back and laughed in disdain.
As if you could even begin to be loud.
As if that coat could make you bold.
Could make you loud.
Could make people, anyone, notice you.
As if you had a choice.
But Darling please buy the fucking coat and be loud.
Find your voice and be as loud as you can be.
If a coat empowers you.
Wear it to dinner with your husband and nothing else.

PLEASE, GET LOUD!

Does putting on a mask make you a super hero?

Is today the day I start wearing my cape and believing I can fly?

One of the fatalities was presumably caused by a 62 year old woman who was not wearing a seat belt and may have been texting someone. She veered into the south bound lane and crashed head on into a 50 year old woman. She killed herself. The other woman is in the hospital with sever injuries. Another accident involved a 90 year old man and his 88 year old wife. He was backing out of a nursing home (?) and was t-boned, I think. He later died of injuries he sustained in the accident. His wife has been upgraded. 

 I don’t know anything about the suicides and frankly I don’t want to. Having been closely, but indirectly affected by some one killing themselves I have nothing to say because I can’t fathom the depth and breadth the path of destruction left in the wake of a suicide. 
I am very thankful that I can’t.

I have only made donations to this organization but if you want to you can participate by walking in their events as well.

So ever since I started to create a Face book Page, then profile, then joined networked blogsin an effort to make you friend me, like me AND follow me I have had a horrible time trying to come up with anything to write about. It’s like FB took the voice out of me and is hiding it from me because I just became needy on the Internet and when I look at my Vapid profile I sit in silent judgement and think “Why the hell couldn’t I just add all of this to my RL profile and be done with it?” I have more friends there. I have RL life friends, bloggy friends, twitter friends and complete and total stranger friends from when I needed more gangsters in my Mob. I have no answer other than besides the fact that my mom is there too,  it is all so overwhelming for me that my tongue is tied into a thousand little knots right now so I gave my self last week off and this week I am giving The Dish off and in lieu of trying to gently pry all the knots apart I am going to answer the call of duty set forth by, not one, but TWO people in the blogosphere.

As Vinny C’s It and Squatlo Rant have tagged me  and I am supposed to answer all these questions but for the love of bacon I have no idea why any one would want to know some of these things about me.
When I am done scarring you I am then supposed to tag four other bloggers to do the same.  If I can remember to do it at the end. I do have the attention span of a Gna…OOOH Look a rotten banana!

1) If you have pets, do you see them as merely animals, or are they members of your family?

Obviously my pets, The Tine and The Nug, are purely animals.

4) What would you do with a billion dollars?

I would quit my job. Buy a gold plated Ferrari. Drink vintage Dom out of my custom carved diamond goblet.
Oh my god, there are so many things I would do. I would roll around in the money and lick it all to claim it as my own.
I would buy an island and name it Dufmanno Island, just because I could. I would require all who frequent the island to wear as much glitter as possible because who can be unhappy in glitter? Only people who are dead inside, that’s who.

5.What helps pull you out of a bad mood?

My husband. A good stiff drink. My dogs.  Six O’clock.

6. Which is more blessed, loving someone or being loved by someone?

This is a trick question.
If you don’t love anyone then no one will love you back and if no one is loving anyone (and no, your hand loving yourself doesn’t count) then no one is getting blessed and also if I talk anymore about being blessed I may just burst in to Satan Flames.

7)  What is your bedtime routine?

First I dismount the couch by doing a back flip onto the floor. Then I grand jeté over the dining table. Flicking off light switches with my foot as I fouetté en tournant.

Ending with a step out front flip landing in a split on my memory foam bed after I’ve brushed my teeth and used the ladies room.

If you are currently in a relationship, how did you meet your partner?
(why is the 8 a smiley face?)

We actually have my Ex-Douchebag #2 to thank for that. He took me to a restaurant for dinner which I paid for where The Dish was working many many years ago. The Dish walked into the kitchen and said ”Who is the blonde with the Douchebag?” And everyone answered ”Oh you must mean Vapid!” Then over the course of many years I plied him with well crafted cocktails laced with rohypnol and one day I finally got the dose right and successfully tied him to my bed post.
Forever.
The end.

9) If you could watch a creative person in the act of the creative process, who would it be?

A blogger. Watching a blogger create the most fantastic post ever would be completely riveting. Each key tap. Each pause and look to the sky searching for just the right words to string together. The avalanche of typing that comes as the flood gates of creativity  open. The eventual disappointment and backspacing. The pause. And then…
And then…the entire process starts over.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

Until finally the ultimate climactic moment.

The apprehension, the double checking, the re-re-re-proofing, the…the…the.

Gentle yet firm pushing of the

PUBLISH  button!

FIN!

All of the books that I never seem to be able to finish. I am 400 pages and nine years into The Count of  Monte Cristo. I am ten chapters and two years into The Manual of Detection (which my cousin wrote).  I am some where in the middle of Wesley: The Remarkable Love Story of a Owl and His Girl. I can’t bring myself to finish it over the fear of the allergic reaction where my eyes start to water profusely and I feel like I’ve swallowed a golf ball. I have read The Alchemist more than ten times and Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah probably 20 times.

11) How would you see yourself in ten years time?

With my new found squatting work outs probably like this.

12) What’s your fear?

Suffocating.
My knees get tingly just thinking about it.

13. Would you give up all junk food for the rest of your life for the opportunity to visit outer space?

I don’t eat junk food and since my ancestors are from space I am always welcome.
See?

14. Would you rather be single and rich or married, but poor?

I would really rather be rich and married. Why is this not an option? Why can’t we love our money and money our loves?

15. What’s the first thing you do when you wake up?

Try to slick down  my hair so when everyone else wakes up I don’t scare the shit out of them with my exploding night hair.

16. If you could change one thing about your spouse/partner what would it be?

Absolutely nothing.
He’s perfect.
Most of all I would never try to have him be more optimistic about everything.

17. If you could pick a new name for yourself, what would it be?

Popcorn Delavergne.
Catchy isn’t it. Just like the clap.

18. Would you forgive and forget no matter how horrible a thing that special someone has done?

It depends on the definition of special someone.
If  it’s the dentist and I came out with my pants on inside out I may forget because of the gas but I probably would not forgive.

19. If you could only eat one thing for the next 6 months, what would it be?

This question is giving me anxiety.
Peach Jolly Ranchers? Or maybe steak?  Clams?
I don’t know.
*wrings hands*

I’m done.
This long.
And I had a bitch of a time with it because I think my alien ancestors were fucking with Internets because I haven’t visited lately.